Lure of the Dark Side
by kitsune21809
Summary: AU. Sansa realizes she will never be free when Margaery takes her place as Joffrey's betrothed, so with a little encouragement from Littlefinger, Sansa enters the game to secure her position. Is it possible to write a Sansa/Joffrey romance that's almost believable? Or have I lost my mind? Read and find out! - Currently under revision for season 3!
1. Chapter 1

**I've always liked this pairing for some reason. Then again, I've always liked pairing my villians with the hero so I guess I'm not all that surprised. I've also always liked to corrupt my hero's as well…**

Slight AU

Joffrey/Sansa

Summary: AU. Sansa realizes she will never be freed when Margaery takes her place as Joffrey's betrothed, so with a little encouragement from Littlefinger, Sansa enters the game to secure her position.

* * *

~_A man must accept his fate, or be destroyed by it~_

She releases a breathless laugh as the sound of applause fades behind her. She quickens her steps as a tremendous weight lifts from her weary shoulders and she feels an immense joy radiate from within herself. She's free! Finally, she may go home! Back to her brothers, to her mother! She's never been so happy in all her life.

"My lady."

Nervousness dampens her happiness and she drops her smile into a sorrowful façade that she hopes will fool whoever has stopped her. She turns to find Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish, hurrying to catch up to her. She's wary of this man. Rumors abound that he betrayed her father in his hour of need. But he seems genuinely concerned as he stops before her. "My sincerest condolences." He says.

She allows her frown to deepen slightly. "They're right." She says. "I'm not good enough for him."

"You shouldn't say that. You'll be good enough for many things." Her frown is genuine now, and the weight only a few minutes ago lifted from her crashes back down again heavier than before. "He'll still enjoy beating you and…now that you're a woman, he'll be able to enjoy you in other ways as well."

She shakes her head in denial at this, for surely he is wrong. "But, if he's not marrying me, he…"

"He'll let you go home?" Littlefinger laughs lightly at her and she feels tears gathering in her eyes. "Joffrey's not the sort of boy who gives away his toys." She's knows he's right. Littlefinger's hand rubs her arm and she finds it oddly soothing. "You have a tender heart." He says. "Just like your mother did, at her age. I see so much of her, in you."

Sansa says nothing and she wonders how this man knows her mother but does not ask. She receives her answer all the same. "She was like a sister to me. For her sake, I'll help get you home."

Sansa stares at him. Through him. She sees her home in her mind's eye, crumbling before her. Sees the images of her families faces pulled farther and farther from her. She's trapped, she realizes. She'll never go home, she'll never be free.

"King's landing is my home now." The response is automatic, she barely even registers saying it, she's said it so much.

"Look around you." He says turning his head to gaze around the room. She follows his gaze obediently. "We're all liars here, and every one of us, is better than you."

She smiles lightly at him. Is that what he thinks? Her eyes find Joffrey in the crowd, seated casually upon the iron throne as if he truly and honestly belonged there. Maybe he does, though rumors abound about that too. She licks her lips and feels numb inside. His hair shines white in the sun that peeks through the windows and his smiling face strikes a chord deep inside herself. Perhaps she's masochistic, she thinks. She must be to still have latent feelings for such an evil boy.

If anything, she's the best liar of them all. They think she's weak. They think she's stupid, that she doesn't see what they're thinking behind their smug, calculating expressions.

Looking down, she sees Margaery, smiling at him sweetly. She frowns. "She moves to assume my place at Joffrey's side." Littlefinger frowns softly at her. She meets his eyes proudly and a bitter smile forms on her ruby lips. "One day, she will see him for what he truly is."

"Would you have her eyes opened by your own hand?" He asks her. She tilts her head curiously and her brows crinkle above her eyes. "How do you mean?"

He smiles conspiratorially at her and taking her arm, leads her away from the crowd. "It's all a game my lady. You can only win if you play the game well. In this way I will help you, if you truly wish to stay."

She turns to him. Glances back over her shoulder at the fading crowd. Joffrey wants to cast her aside? Only to pull her back at command when it suits him? She won't let him.

"Teach me." She says.

* * *

"I've heard a song from a passing bird my lord." She says to him.

"An what song is this?" Joffrey asks her, his tone rough and rude. He walks slightly ahead of her and turns curiously when she speaks. She smiles.

They are alone, save for his new guard which follows him obediently. He stops walking and she does the same. "About Loras Tyrell. You shouldn't trust him."

He smirks cruelly at her. "And why shouldn't I trust him? Or are you simply jealous because I cast you aside so easily?" She delights in the cruel smile of her own and steps closer to whisper in his ear the secret she knows.

Pulling back, she sees his eyes are wide with shock and fury. His ego is a great part of him and he holds it close to him. He likes to think that because he is King that no one can or should keep secrets from him. He likes to believe that women are inferior and stupid compared to him. She knows he's smarting from the blatant betrayal and she knows that rage will be well cultivated. She knows this boy. Most of all, she knows how to stroke the fires of that ego to her advantage.

"The _presumption_ of the boy, thinking he could keep such a scandalous betrayal from you. _You_! _The King_!" There's something in his eyes when he looks at her. Something passes between them at this show of loyalty and he nods slightly at her before he turns to go.

Sansa smiles like Cersei.

* * *

"Do you deny this treachery?" Joffrey screams at Loras from his throne. "Do you deny that Renly Baratheon was your lover?"

Sansa watches the proceeding stone faced beside Littlefinger, though her fingers clench tightly in her skirts to hide their trembling.

Loras bows his head in defeat and Margaery is strangely silent. "No, my lord. I do not deny it."

Joffrey drops back down into his seat, a glare settle on his face and his eyes meet Sansa's in the crowd. That same look from before passes between them and Cersei watches her suspiciously. Turning back to Loras, Joffrey raises his hand to the dog. "Kill him."

"No!" Margaery screams.

Like she knew he would, Sansa listens as Joffrey confronts the girl. "But my lady…" He says haughtily. "Your brother has committed high treason against me." He pauses. "Did you know of his infidelity?"

Sansa holds her breath.

Margaery pauses, turning helplessly to her brother. One of the guards holds a sword above his head and his eyes plead with her to save him. But if she confesses, it will be her neck as well. She looks to Joffrey.

"I…"

Looking to her brother once more, she watches as his eyes close and his head bows in defeat. He knows she will betray him. "I did not know this, your grace. I am as shocked as you."

Joffrey grins in triumph.

"But surely, death is a drastic measure to be taken!" She says.

"I disagree." Joffrey says.

The sword falls. Margaery lets out a hoarse scream and when she looks at Joffrey again, Sansa recognizes the look of vengeance.

* * *

"Your efforts bear fruit." Littlefinger says to her afterward. Sansa frowns.

"Yet she stays within this house." She turns away from the window where she spies upon the happy couple, walking in the garden. Her fingers pluck absently at the strings of her dress as Littlefinger comes to stand beside her. "Body offered to the man who so wounded her."

"To leave now would only serve to arouse suspicion." He says following her gaze. "But she burns with thoughts of avenging her brother."

Sansa turns to him then, her eyes surprisingly light. "I would see such embers given breath. And in the resulting flames, I to rise from the ashes once more."

Littlefinger smirks at his creation, for this conniving spitfire is most certainly his creation indeed.

* * *

"I know your suffering." Sansa tells Margaery as she brushes her hair. It is common duty meant for a servant but she offers solace and friendship during the dark hours following Loras' death. Tear swim in Margaery's eyes. "He killed my father right before my eyes." She says. "Even after he promised to spare him."

"You're lucky you escaped." Margaery whispers. "I don't want to marry him. He's a monster."

Sansa pauses in her brushing. "You are a woman." She tells her. Margaery turns confused to her and Sansa smiles warmly, tucking a stray strand behind the girl's ear. "And our hands shape the fates, when those of men tremble."

Tears fall from her eyes as she grimaces. "It is I who tremble." Her voice hitches. "The thought of Joffrey's hands upon me…" She buries her face in Sansa's shoulder who gasps lightly in surprise. She puts the brush down and runs them soothingly over Margaery's hair. "There, there." She whispers. She hushes her, and fights back the uncomfortable feeling that settles in her stomach.

Her eyes darken in color and she reaches behind her, procuring a small silver blade. "It is such desire," she whispers, bringing the blade into the girl's eyesight. "…that presents opportunity."

Margaery raises red eyes slowly to meet Sansa's grinning visage. "You suggest treason!" She whispers scandalously. Sansa frowns. "I suggest you consider the years unfolding before you."

She watches as Margaery swallows thickly and presses the blade into the girl's open hand. "Every moment swollen with the knowledge that Joffery Baratheon lives out his life in the privileged lap of luxery while your brother is forever denied breath."

Sansa watches in satisfaction as Margaery's face distorts into an expression of rage and disgust. "It should not be so!" She growls reminding Sansa of the direwolves of her home.

"It should not." She whispers in kind. "Everything I held dear, was taken from me as well." Margaery sits captivated by her words and Sansa lowers her voice to draw her in. "My home, my father, my family, the promise of a happy life…the things that have been done to us cannot stand unanswered." Margaery nods slightly in agreement and Sansa allows a pitiable frown to grace her features. "To allow it…" she holds the knife up before them, twisting the blade absently in the air so that the light flicked sharply off its surface. "Would be to turn from those we claimed to have loved."

Margaery's eyes glue to the blade and there is a bewitched look in them. She takes the blade from her and holds it firm in her grasp. "Is there no other course?" She asks.

Sansa sighs. "If you wish to see your brother's murder avenged, blood must be spilled."

Margaery says nothing, but her eyes are so intensely focused on the blade that Sansa wonders if she even heard her. She kisses her cheek, tasting salt from the other woman's tears and leaves the room. It's a great risk she has taken this night. If the girl doesn't attempt to kill Joffery, then she will surely accuse her of treason and her fate is sealed.

Glancing back, Sansa sees the rage on the girl's face and the tears running hot over her cheeks. She has no worry of this.

* * *

She comes to him during his bath, appearing sweet and comely though there is a darkness in her eyes he doesn't recognize. Joffrey stands from the water, unheeded by his nakedness and approaches with a smile. "I had hoped you would visit me tonight." He says, arms open and welcoming to his future bride. "Your company was sorely missed."

Margaery holds a clay bottle of wine in her hands, and her fingers clench around the neck. As he nears ever closer, her face twists into an expression of rage and to his great surprise, she brings the bottle up, crashing into the side of his head. He falls back against the marble tub, dazed and in pain. Barely, he registers her screaming and pressure on his stomach as she sits atop him. His eyes come into focus and see a flash of silver as she pulls a blade from the folds of her dress, holding it high above her head.

"You killed my brother!" She screams. "It was your hand who took him from this world! And mine shall see you from it!"

His eyes widen in fear as she raises the dagger high and just as it falls, another hand grabs hers from behind, plunging the blade into her own neck showering him with the girl's blood. He shuts his eyes in horror and as she falls, he pushes her into the pool behind him. Opening his eyes, he is shocked to find not his guard but Sansa standing before him, his blood spattered savoir.

He sits up and turns to stare in amazed horror at the body floating in the pool as she drops to the floor beside him. "Joffrey."

"I cast you aside." He says and she frowns. "Yet you save my life." He turns to her, his eyes wide and clear. She smiles and places a hand upon his cheek in kind. "I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey." She whispers.

He stands and turns from her.

"I have done you harm too. Or have you forgotten!" He says angrily, turning to her. "I killed her brother, and she tried to exact vengeance on me! I killed _your_ father! Was that your intent, to kill her so you could take her place for a time when you could do the same?"

She frowns, standing close to him, she tosses the blade to the ground. "If I wanted you dead, my lord, I would have let _her_ kill you."

Joffrey scoffs and she places gentle fingers on his chin turning him to look at her. "We're both monsters, Joffrey." She says to his surprise. "We've both done horrible things to each other. I would see such hatred turned towards those truly deserving of it. The ones who move to steal your glory." She smiles as he begins to relax, the tension easing from his eyes to be replaced with curiosity. "You would move against your brother?" He asks. For a moment, she's quiet. Then, a slow, calculating smile crosses her features. "Let us be monsters together and seize the very heavens!"

A slow smirk replaces his guarded frown and he reaches forwards to pull her flush against him. When he kisses her, she feels an exhilarating rush of heat she's never felt before and she clings to him.

His nudity allows her to feel all too clearly his erection pressing into the folds of her dress and she gasps, pulling away. His face is flushed and red from more than the blood spilt there. He breathes heavily and a small grin quirks the corner of her mouth.

"What's the matter?" He asks breathlessly. "Scared?" He scoffs. "I should have known."

_Tears aren't a woman's only weapon…_ She hears all too clearly Cersei's voice ringing in her head. _The best one's between your legs. Learn how to use it._

She glares at him defiantly and her hand slips between them, hidden by the thick fabric of her dress. This time, it's his turn to gasp and his head drops back onto the wall behind him as she smiles wickedly. His member pulses hot in her hand and she experiments by gently squeezing and running her hand along its length. To her great satisfaction, he turns to putty in her hands and his fingers clutch her waist hard as his breaths come in heavy uneven pants.

"I'm not scared anymore, my lord." She whispers leaning into him. His only response is a bruising kiss to silence her as he pulls her, if possible, closer to him.

* * *

"I will marry the Stark girl." Joffrey says to his mother. The expression on her face makes him grin because he's never seen her so shocked and angry and annoyed at the same time. She glares at him as he goes to stand by the window. His mother's personal chambers present the perfect view of the garden below and there he sees Sansa walking with her handmaiden. She laughs at something the girl says and pushes her hair off her shoulder revealing the pale contour of her neck. She wearing it loose today, not in that garish fashion his mother favors. It looks nice.

"Joffrey."

"She saved my life. Swore her fealty to me and me alone. If that isn't loyalty…"

"Have you considered that the girl might be plotting against you?" His mother asks him angrily. "You are at war with her brother!" Joffrey frowns. "I have." He says turning to look at her. Crossing his arm, he leans against the window sill. "I do not think that is her goal."

"Darling…" His mother's cajoling tone annoys him and he raises a haughty hand to her. "Enough, I'll hear no more of it. My decision is made."

The girl is a valuable asset. That and she possesses an amazing talent with her hands that he would desperately hate to lose.

* * *

Their wedding is a grand ceremony with many in attendance. And throughout the entire proceedings, his mother never once removes her cold glare from her person. Sansa doesn't care. Because as their vows are exchanged and her lips meet his in sealing kiss, she has the power now.

Cersei can't hurt her now and…if she plays her cards right, neither will Joffrey.

That night, she stands before him, the sheer fabric of her muslin gown translucent in the candle light. Without a word, she reaches up to slowly untie the ribbon around her neck holding the gown in place. The fabric falls loose around her, pooling at her feet and revealing the smooth, ivory of her pale skin. An intensity of longing streams in his blood, sets fire to his bones, floods him with awareness. He desires her as if he has never known desire. Light flickers over her fine skin, flames in a tiny halo at her temples and along the curve of her eyebrows. After a deep calming sigh, she smiles, her arms held open in a strangely affectionate invitation for him.

In two strides, he catches her around the waist. His hands slide down past her waist, capturing her bottom and pulling her against him. Wild sensations flood through her, and Sansa releases a breathy gasp. His skin burns, hot and feverish beneath her probing hands. He captures her lips in a searing kiss and her knees buckle at the sensation. Strong arms hold her steady and with a growl, he lifts her completely off the ground.

His mouth releases hers at last, and he gazes at her with drugged hot eyes. Her eyelids feel heavy, cumbersome, as if she, too, had inhaled some intoxicating vapor. With a wicked grin, he turns and tosses her roughly onto the bed. She cries out in surprise and bounces lightly on the soft mattress In seconds, he's looming over her, reveling in the frightened look on her face.

"Your mine now." He growls hotly.

After a tense moment, her brows lower over her eyes and that spark he's grown to anticipate appears in her eyes. Her fingers tangle in his shirt and he smirks expecting her to try and pull it over his head with his arms pinned around her. She surprises him by ripping it open as if it were wet parchment. He growls at her boldness and she smiles taking his chin in her fingertips. "I am yours." She whispers.

His fingers tangle painfully in her scarlet tresses and he attacks the soft column of her neck, his teeth nipping and biting at the tender skin.

She leans forward and replies with her lips and tongue, searching his mouth, only pulling away when his kiss hinted at a rusty taste of blood.

"Oh!" She touched the corner of his lips with a fingertip. "I hurt you."

He drops his forehead into the curve of her shoulder and laughs unsteadily, his breath warm on her neck. "As if you could hurt me."

She smiles wickedly. "Good."

He wonders where the shy, nervous, babbling idiot that she once was has gone. Wonders who this fiery temptress is that has replaced her. Wherever she has gone, he doesn't miss her.

He suddenly finds himself under her as she perches atop him. In anger, he grasps her shoulders, intending to reverse their positions once more until she begins to move. His fingers tighten, leaving bright red marks against her skin and his head drops back, burying itself into his pillow. Joffrey groans. Sansa smiles.

The friction of her bare skin rubbing hot and moist against his drives him insane and his fingers drops from her shoulders to her thighs. He pushes and pulls at her, trying to move her ever faster. She gasps and moans above him and it only intensifies the feeling coiling in his belly.

Sansa's hands brace on his chest, her fingers squeezing the muscles of his pectorals as she pants. Joffrey's eyes crack open to watch her dazed. Her breast bobbing in his face, her expression twisted wanly in pleasure.

He can take no more, and flips them again, this time spreading her thighs before him and plunging his girth deep and hard inside her. She cries out, her back arching against him as a searing pain rips through her. Her fingers claw at his back and her pained cry sends a jolt of pleasure rushing through him. He doesn't pause to give her time to adjust. No, it's too far past that now and he can barely focus from the warm of her surrounding him.

He takes pleasure in her twisted expression, in the small tear drops clinging to the corners of her eyes. In her screams as he jerks against her, pulling her knee up over his shoulder to plunge deeper. His eyes stay trained on her face, searching, watching fascinated as her lips change from a grimace to part in a perfect little 'o'.

Finally the pain recedes and is replaced with something different. Something pleasant. He thrusts against her, hard and fast and he releases her captive leg and she wraps them both snugly around his hips. Her arms tangle around his shoulders as he sags into her, his face buried in the curve of her neck.

Her keening cries sends wave after wave of red hot passion into his stomach and he jerks as she begins meeting his thrusts.

Muttered, unintelligible words tumble from Joffrey's lips as he presses fevered kisses along the column of her throat and at the beginning swell of her breasts.

They flip again. Sansa thrusts against him hard, surrendering herself to the electric currents that shock her body with each one. Her head falls back against her shoulders, her long red hair tangling around her breasts, bouncing in sync with her movements. His fingers dig into her thighs once more and he pushes against her, matching her rhythm.

She brings one of his hands to rest against her breast as she arches her back breathing heavily with each thrust. His hand squeezes hard in retaliation and he sits up, his arms locking around her like a vice.

She feels it, closer, closer.

Joffrey kisses her hard and sucks at her lips as her fingers dig into his scalp.

"More." He breathes.

"Yes." She gasps out, pushing harder.

"Sansa!"

"Yes!" She screams and he feels something rush through his veins, his stomach drops as if he's falling and suddenly he screams out as his body is enveloped in heat.

She feels it too, and gasps loudly, her head throwing back as her hair sticks to her sweaty face.

They stay like that for a moment. Clinging desperately to each other and breathing heavily in each other's faces. His fingers dig into her scalp and he presses his forehead to hers, his eyes boring into hers as he smirks.

"Uncle Tyrion was right about you Northern women." He whispers harshly.

Whether she has the decency to blush or her face is simply still flushed from their activities, he can't tell. But she smiles all the same.

* * *

**I've only ever watched the show so I know next to nothing about the books so if I got something wrong well...it's AU so who cares! Review and let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Second installment. Things start to get a little more complicated for Sansa and Joffrey starts... feeling.**

* * *

_Why this is hell, nor am I out of it._  
_Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God,_  
_And tasted the eternal joys of heaven,_  
_Am not tormented with ten thousand hells_  
_In being deprived of everlasting bliss?_  
_- _Christopher Marlowe_, "Doctor Faustus"_

The months pass in ease and Sansa's plans are running along smoothly. Joffrey has not laid a harmful hand against her nor has he ordered it of his guards, since the wedding.

News has traveled that her brother advances from the North as swiftly as the raven flies and soon, soon, he will rescue her. Soon, she will hand him her lord and husband and all will be well. The Lanister's will be destroyed and she will yet return home.

She stares at her reflection in the mirror and her stomach rolls unsteadily. That time could not come soon enough.

There is a clatter outside her door and her now cherished friend, Lord Baelish bursts in her room, quite scandalously. His eyes are dark and his hand holds a small, yellow envelope.

"My lady." He says quietly. "A letter has come for you. I managed to retrieve it before…" He breaks off and hands it to her. "It's from Robb Stark."

She jerks the parchment from his grasp and greedily breaks the seal. She smiles as her eyes scan the contents.

After a moment, her smile is gone.

* * *

He, his mother, and his councilmen are gathered in the throne room, discussing plans for getting his uncle Jaime back when Sansa loudly bursts in. The doors slam open upon her entrance and she strides, quickly and purposefully towards the table, towards him.

His brows knit together in fury and he stands. "Sansa! What is the meaning of this?"

She's oddly quiet, her face a mixture of distress and cold indifference. Petyr Baelish follows not far behind, his expression grim and dark with his own buried rage. Sansa stops before them all and does not bother with a formal curtsy and gets right to the point. "A letter my lord…from my _brother_." The way she spits her sibling's title gives him pause as it is the last thing he would have expected. Looking upon her face closely, he receives nothing but a blank stare but her eyes are rimmed red and her cheeks are slightly flushed. He slowly sits and leans back into his chair. "Leave us." He gestures to the court. They all stand to leave, his mother, the hand, all of them.

Lord Baelish speaks up. "Perhaps it would be wise to let her ladyship and the hand stay? Your young bride's news may be of some interest to them."

Joffrey quirks a brow, but motions for them to stay all the same. Once everyone has gone and it is just the five of them, Sansa glances behind her at Littlefinger and holds out her hand. "Lord Baelish…the letter, if you please."

He hands her the crumpled parchment and she purposefully strides towards the table to hand it to the king. Their fingers brush as he takes it from her, a bolt of electricity surging through his body at her soft touch. He shrugs it off and reads the letter.

His eyes widen in surprise and rise to find her staring at the floor. "You have been branded a traitor."

She flinches, only barely but he still sees it. His mother jerks the letter out of his grasp and her eyes skim its contents viciously. Before she can voice what she's read, Sansa speaks up, surprising them all.

"Robb has heard word of my deeds here in King's Landing." She says, her voice strangely hollow. "He knows that I saved your grace's life. He knows of my part in the death of Margaery Tyrell and… he knows I married your grace…even after my vows to do so were broken."

Cersei hands the letter to her father, and Sansa goes on. "He says I have betrayed them all by not letting the king die, for not killing him _myself _when I had the chance to do so." Joffrey tenses.

"And furthermore, my greatest betrayal was when I married of my own free will, the murderer of our late lord and father."

The room is silent, until Cersei speaks, watching her with that cold, penetrating gaze of hers.

"And you are saddened by this, little dove?" She asks.

To their surprise, there is a hateful glint in Sansa's eyes when she looks up at them. "No, my lady." She says coldly. "I'm disappointed and…._angry_."

Joffrey feels a swell of pride at the hate shown plainly on her face, taking glee in the knowledge that it is directed towards his sworn enemy.

"Angry?" His grandfather asks her, folding the letter and placing it on the table before them.

Sansa sighs heavily, as if preparing to unload a huge burden from her shoulders. She holds her head high, squares her shoulders and smiles bitterly. "Yes. He says I have betrayed him when everything I have done has been _for_ him."

"Explain yourself!" Cersei barks and Joffrey feels a sense of foreboding coiling in his stomach.

Sansa looks to him, and there is genuine regret in her eyes. "You were right when I saved you that day. I only killed Margaery so I would have the chance to betray you myself." She says. His hands clench by his sides. "I had planned to hand you over to him when the time came, when my brothers seized King's Landing."

"So you _are_ a traitor!" Cersei snaps. Joffrey wishes she would just be quiet.

She meets his gaze and he sees something in the deep blue of her eyes. Regret? Shame? He cannot place it but it stirs something within him and even though he is immensely angry with her, he hesitates in condemning her so quickly. "And now?" He asks.

"Yes, I betrayed you." She says plainly, softly as her head lowers and she looks away shamefully. "But that was before… I…"

Joffrey's knuckles press into his chin as he waits for her to go on. Before what? Was she going to say she loved him? That she was wrong about him? That these past few months have changed her outlook on him as a whole? He smirks; as well she should. Though it will not save her now.

"I think it's wise you tell him Sansa, before things get out of hand." Littlefinger says, boldly placing a hand on her shoulder.

"What is it? You love him?" Cersei sneer derisively, seemingly reading his thoughts. For the first time since she's met his mother, Sansa glares defiantly at the woman. Unbidden, he feels that sense of pride again. "You gave me some very precious advice once, my lady." She says hotly.

"And what was that?"

"You said…that I may never love the king…" Joffrey's hand clenches against his chin. "…But I will love his children." She finishes and the room is thrown into a stunned silence.

Sansa breaks that silence with four words that simultaneously saves her life and condemns it.

"I am with child."

* * *

"She is a confessed traitor!" His mother screams at him. "Like her father before her!" Joffrey glares heatedly at her. "She carries my child and heir!"

"Oh, your _heir_!" She spits the words. "You are young; more children will come in time. The child of a traitor is useless." Not for the first time in his life, Joffrey feels true anger at his mother. How can she be so callous? So heartless? So….foolish?

Sansa betrayed him, but in a way, he almost expected it of her. But that child growing inside her is his. He's never been a sentimental man. Most would say he doesn't possess a heart at all but Joffrey feels a protective possessiveness towards his unborn child that he himself doesn't understand.

And with his luck with women lately, it seems any heir, traitor born or not, would be a welcome sight. He turns to his grandfather, ignoring his mother for a time. "What is your advice on the issue, hand?"

His grandfather is silent for a long moment, his fingers rubbing absently at his chin and Joffrey knows where he inherited the habit from then. "The child is a Lanister." He says after a while. Cersei stiffens in her seat. "And thus belongs here. You _are_ young, but with the war at our doorstep, it is never unwise to be a little cautious."

Joffrey nods, his fingers steeple under his chin as he considers his most trusted advisor's words carefully.

"As for the girl… she shall be granted immunity until the time of the child's arrival. After which you may do with her as you see fit."

The room falls silent and even his mother has nothing to say to this. Joffrey stands, suddenly tired and turns to leave. "Then, that is the coarse I shall take." He says.

* * *

"You've turned into quite the little liar."

Sansa glances up in the reflection of her vanity mirror and spies her husband leaned casually in the doorway, his hand draped on the hilt of his sword and for a moment, her heart leaps with fear. He's come to kill her, she has no doubt. She knows he can do it to, regardless of her condition.

Surprisingly, the fear only spurs a latent courage within her and she snaps agitatedly at him. "Did you honestly believe I loved you? After _everything_ you put me through?"

Bitter tears gather in the corner of her eyes but she holds them back defiantly. "You killed my father before my eyes. You held me prisoner as your intended and then you cast me aside like an old hound to be put down." She stands roughly, whipping around to face him with a snarl like the Dire wolves of her household.

"I should have killed you when I finished Margaery!"

In three long strides, he crosses the room to her. His hand circles around her throat in a vice and she chokes as he pushes her roughly into her vanity table. One of her hands brace against the top while the other encircles the wrist choking her and she gasps as his fingers squeeze into her flesh.

"The only reason you're still alive…" he says darkly to her. "Is because of my son growing inside you."

Because he knows it is a boy. A son for him to raise in his father's image. Sansa glares at him and begins clawing at his wrist in an attempt to lighten her airway. "Once he's born, you'll be lucky to have your own life."

She gasps and coughs as he releases her with a jerk. She stumbles back into the dresser and as he turns from her she feels months of rage and torment and hatred well inside of her all at once. "I am _not_ afraid of you!" She screams at him.

He barely graces her with a glance and strides from the room. "You _will_ be." He says slamming the heavy wooden door behind him.

Sansa grips the side of the dresser until her knuckles turn white.

Her knees wobble, her legs shake, but Sansa does not fall.

* * *

"Shae, take these away. The smell is making me ill."

Sansa gestures towards the eggs served for her lunch. She used to love eggs, now the very thought of them makes her stomach squirm uncomfortably. Blessedly, Shae takes them away, and the last remnants of the slightly sulfurous stink disperses in the air.

A light breeze enters through the large windows of the room and blows a soothing hand through her hair. Sansa sighs and drops her forehead into her palm, massaging the skin between her eyes gently. She's often found herself suffering with pains of the head lately. They last for days sometimes. So painful and throbbing that she seeks out the darkest, coldest place in the kingdom; a small room underground that Shae showed her once. She doesn't know what it's for, and when the pain's that bad, she finds she doesn't care. She presses her head against the cool stone floors and lies there for hours, simply breathing until the pain disperses enough for her return to her chambers.

She has to be careful during these times though. One time, she was gone too long and Cersei had suspected that she'd run off. As if she could.

The king was furious and had spent an hour screaming at her for her stupidity. He'd succeeded in returning the pains to her head but he had not touched her. In fact, he hadn't laid a hand against her since that day…

A servant had even shown up at her door with a sleeping drought not long after he'd left though she was sure she'd not told Shae the pains had returned to her.

She mustn't think on it now, for the pain will surely intensify if she does.

Sansa sips her water. Sometimes that helps too.

She leans back in her chair and rubs her belly, which has grown to the size of a small, but noticeable bump. Brushing her long braid back over her shoulder, she tries to relax.

"My lady."

The gods are cruel, she thinks. Will she ever find peace again? She doesn't have to turn her head to know it is the imp that has sought out her attention, but she does so anyway and smiles welcomingly. It is a genuine smile. "Lord Tyrion." She says amicably.

"You look ill, Lady Sansa. Are you well?" He asks her sweetly, concern lacing his voice. She nods and yawns lightly in response. "I did not sleep well. The child gives me no rest." _Like his father,_ she thinks absently. "The pains have returned. Not as fiercely today though."

"You should see my sister about it. Perhaps she can help you." He offers. Sansa scoffs rather un-lady like but it makes Tyrion smile in amusement. "Help me into my grave you mean." The thing she loves most about this pregnancy is that she has been granted immunity. She doesn't have to fear speaking her mind anymore. Doesn't have to fear that someone will take offense and kill her in an instant for her opinion.

She's come to learn that the Lanister's enjoy someone who is outspoken but are so easily insulted that it makes the speaker ill at ease to say anything at all. That is, except for Lord Tyrion, who is just as rude and outspoken as anyone she's ever met. Perhaps all the time she's spent around the man has rubbed off on her slightly.

"Everyone knows she despises me for what I've done to her _beloved _Joffrey."

"Was a time when he was _your_ beloved Joffrey." Tyrion says into his wine. She glances at him. Was he defending the little tyrant? She wonders why.

"That time has long since passed. The boy I knew was not the boy I know now…" She pauses, sips her water and avoids the imp's gaze. "Or, perhaps he was."

"People change, I've come to learn." At her curious look he laughs lightly. "Rarely, but it does happen on occasion."

Sansa frowns. "You seem unusually fond of your nephew today, Lord Tyrion. Should I be wary?" She teases but the guarded question is clear. Tyrion clears his throat loudly and sets his wine down hard on the table. "Certainly not! I am only looking out for the happiness of my favorite niece-in-law."

She smiles teasingly. "Do you promise?"

"I swear."

A comfortable silence settles between the two and for a short while, they listen to the gulls and the crash of the waves against the rocks below.

"I'm curious, what was the advice my sister gave you?"

Sansa licks her lips. "My red flower had blossomed she called it. When she brought me into her chambers to talk, the subject turned to Joffrey, naturally."

From the corner of her eye, she sees Tyrion nod. "I had told her I loved Joffrey and she proceeded to share her 'womanly wisdom' with me."

She's silent for a moment and sighs. "She told me: The more people you love the weaker you are. To love only my children."

_But shouldn't I love Joffrey, your grace? _

_You can try…little dove. _

"Leave it to my darling elder sister to condemn her son's union before it even begins." Tyrion grumbles.

"He condemns himself."

Sansa knows she's overstepped her bounds with that one and prays that Tyrion won't run to Joffrey with that little snippet of hers. His eyes are sad as he contemplates her reply.

"You could leave you know." He says and she just continues to stare out at the vast blue sky. "I could help you, and your baby."

"And where would I go, my lord?" She asks him turning to him. "My brother brands me as a traitor. My father likely frowns down on me from the afterlife. My sister's gone. Abandoned me that first day."

"You could start anew, change your name."

"Joffrey would have me hunted down and my baby taken from me as well as my life. No, my lord. King's Landing is my home now and I shall stand by my husband as a wife is supposed to until…" She doesn't finish but her eyes are grim.

His small hand covers hers in comfort. "Do not lose faith yet, my lady. Things may yet turn out in your favor." He says cryptically then leaves her. Outside her door, Tyrion passes the king, who leans against the outer wall, arms crossed and expression blank.

Joffrey graces his uncle with a single, appreciative nod and turns, walking briskly down the hall. Tyrion sighs. He turns the opposite way. He decides to have a quick, meaningful chat with his sister.

* * *

"You're making a mistake."

"Am I?" Cersei quips. Tyrion glares at her. Why can't she ever be reasonable? "I know Robert hurt you, but you have to stop punishing the girl for his mistakes."

Now it's his sister's turn to glare at him. "I am not…"

"The more people you love the weaker you are? Love only your children? Tell me, do you want Joffrey dead?"

She stares at him abashed. "Of course not!"

"Have you even noticed?" Tyrion asks her. "Joffrey's tirade has cooled. He's actually doing his job_ right_ for once and you don't think that maybe that's because of the girl?"

Cersei's glare returns and she sits in her chair, leaning forward to grace him with a mocking sneer. "You really expect me to believe that mousy, frightened little _girl_ can change him?"

"No," Tyrion says. "I expect you to believe that headstrong, courageous _woman, _soon to be_ mother _can." Cersei whips away from him, choosing instead to stare at the far wall. Tyrion sighs and approaches her slowly. "If you don't believe me, then believe your own eyes. Watch your son. Observe him." He places a small hand over hers as he did with Sansa. But Cersei's is cold where Sansa's was warm.

"She's more like you than you care to admit. Take a moment to think of her situation. She was shipped off from her family to marry a man she thought she could love. She's pregnant, alone... scared."

Cersei jerks her hand away and places it in her lap.

"The only difference is: her brother abandoned her where yours did not."

Finally, she meets his eyes and he can tell he's planted a seed of thought within that stubborn head of hers. Now, he can only hope that she will let the thought grow.

* * *

Her son sits upon his gilded throne, straight surprisingly rather than slouched cockily over the side. His queen, Sansa, sits in her own, smaller chair at his side, her hands folded gently over her stomach. Her face is blank and Cersei watches curiously as her son's eyes flicker occasionally to the side towards the girl, before rolling back to the front, and settle into a glare.

The next lord comes in, a small portly man with a bald head and beady eyes. He bows before the king and straightens with a smile. "My lord." He says. His gaze turns to Sansa. "Please accept my congratulations, my Lady."

Sansa smiles softly and nods to the man and once more, Cersei spies her son's eyes flickering to the side.

"Thank you, Lord Cornish."

"What is your business here, today?" Joffrey asks the man.

The man goes on to tell about his land. How a sickness swept across his home. His son, daughter, half of his livestock, all were lost to him. Save for his wife. He asks the king for a loan from the royal treasury to replenish his farm and help restore his life.

Cersei says nothing for fear of angering her son. She knows the man is an asset to the kingdom. His cows supply almost half the milk and meat for the kingdom and to lose him would not only put strain on the already starving people of the city, but it would serve her son to lose even more favor with them as well.

"You poor man. I am so sorry for your loss." Sansa says sweetly. Cersei almost sneers. She's just so fucking perfect, isn't she?

Joffrey's eyes turn to his queen once more and for a moment, they stay there, contemplating something. His fingers rub absently at his chin, like her father and Sansa catches him watching her. She stiffens and looks down, her mouth drawn into a thin line.

To her absolute surprise, Cersei watches as her son turns to the man, a small smile on his face. "My lady is right." He says and Sansa's face jerks up in shock. "And your farm is a valuable asset to the kingdom. Very well then. You shall have enough gold to replenish your stock."

The man thanks the king profusely and he appears just as surprised as the rest of them.

When he is gone and the court disperses, Sansa stands to leave, sweeping her long braid over her shoulder and waits for her handmaiden to help her down the steps. It's not required, cautionary as who would want the queen to trip and fall, harming the unborn prince in the process?

Cersei thinks she's had enough surprises for the day but that's not the case it seems. Joffrey, who has already made it to the bottom of the steps, turns back to her. Almost hesitantly, he holds his hand out for her before the handmaiden can and Sansa pauses in shock. Her mouth is still settled in that thin line and her eyes are wary but she must see something in his expression that Cersei cannot with his back turned to her, because she tentatively places her hand in his and he helps her down the steps.

Once they are on the same level, they stand there a moment, simply staring at each other. Joffrey holds her hand in front of him and looks as if he might say something to her, but Sansa only gives him a light, appreciative smile and leaves with her maids.

Joffrey's hand falls to his side as he watches her go, his palm resting comfortably on the hilt of his sword and Cersei thinks he's never looked so much like his father than in that moment.


	3. Chapter 3

**In which Sansa and Joffrey grow closer by the bonds of pain and suffering.**

* * *

_He is a capable young man. Strong, military mind. **Stern.** But sternness and defense of the realm is no vice. It's far too soon to know what manner of King he will be but…I sense true greatness on the horizon for our new king. **True greatness.**_

-Season 1, Episode 10: Maester Pycelle discussing Joffrey Baratheon.

Cersei turns as the guard opens the door to her personal chambers and Sansa enters. The girl does not curtsy anymore, as it is not the custom of a queen to bow to the previous one. "How may I be of service to you, my lady?"

Cersei stands and walks around the table she'd been sitting at to her dresser. "I've heard from my brother that you've been suffering with pains of the head."

Sansa hesitates, then nods slightly. Good girl. It would not be wise to lie, even if she doesn't trust her.

Cersei procures a small blue vile from the top drawer of her vanity and brings it to her. "I've often suffered the same pains myself while pregnant. Here." She presses the vile into the girl's hand. Sansa says nothing, but holds the vile gently to her chest as she waits to be dismissed. "Put two drops in your drink if the pain becomes unbearable. But use it sparingly…" She says averting her eyes. "It's not good for the baby to use too much."

Sansa's fingers clench around the bottle and her brows twitch into a semblance of a glare but she hides it quickly. Cersei catches it anyway and smiles bitterly.

"If I wanted to kill you girl, you would have been dead long ago."

Sansa says nothing and Cersei sighs in defeat. She waves a hand and the guard and Sansa's maid (Shae, was it?) disperses from the room.

"Sit." She tells her and Sansa complies slowly. Cersei remains standing, staring at the girl for a long time. "You'll never hear this from me again most like." She begins and Sansa raises a curious brow. "It's not often that I admit I am wrong…but I was about you." Sansa's face remains blank but there is a hint of surprise in her blue eyes that has Cersei laughing lightly at her. "To a point, anyhow. We're more alike than you know, my dear."

"And how am I like you?" Cersei's not surprised to hear a slight trace of venom in the girl's voice. The girl has changed too. She's become wolf-blooded as her late husband would call it: headstrong, willful, courageous and hot-tempered.

"I was forced into an arranged marriage at your age. I loved Robert with all my heart. Every girl in the seven kingdoms dreamed of him, but he was mine by oath." Sansa is surprised to hear this, and it shows plainly on her face. Her fingers clench in the fabric of her dress and she is silent, watching as the woman stares at something beyond her, her eyes distant.

"But Robert didn't return my affections and until his death, I was stuck in a loveless marriage." Her gaze focuses once more on Sansa and the girl feels pity for the woman standing before her. "My advice to you was based on my own experiences and should not be taken to heart." She tells her.

Sansa stands and averts her eyes. "My marriage to Joffrey is already loveless."

Cersei places a cool hand on the girls arm, pausing her from leaving the room so quickly. Sansa turns to her curiously and Cersei smiles lightly at her.

"Loveless?" She says. "Affectionless maybe. But loveless...no."

With that, she allows Sansa to go, but leaves her with more to think about than before she entered.

* * *

The Red Wedding, they called it.

Sansa knows she shouldn't feel anything. They betrayed her, abandoned her here. But he was her brother and she was her mother. And now they're gone.

She curls into herself. It's hard, because the bump in her belly has grown larger in the past months and she can barely bring her knees up anymore. She lays on her side, her hands buried in her long hair as she cries, hard, wracking sobs into her pillows. It's dark in her room, the fire casting a solitary light over her bed.

The door cracks open and another light pours into the room. She lying facing the door and when she opens her eyes, she shocked and angry to find her husband standing there.

She sits up, a difficult task given her predicament and glares fiercly at him.

"Come to gloat, my lord?" She half screams. She doesn't care if he kills her anymore. She has nothing left but this baby and he'll take that too in time.

"No." He says lowly. He crosses the room and she shrinks back as he sits on the edge of the bed beside her. Tentatively, his hand reaches for her and she stares at him. For the first time in a long time, he can see every emotion displayed on her face. Sadness, anger, confusion, helplessness and… fear.

"Sansa, come here." He whispers. His hand circles gently around her wrist and he slowly pulls her to him. Leaning back against the headboard of her bed, he wraps his arms around her, and simply holds her.

At first, she's stiff and unresponsive but as his hands rub soothingly down her back and over her arms she begins to relax. Then, she starts to cry again. But it's softer now, less heart wrenching.

"They're gone." She whispers brokenly. "I couldn't even tell them I'm sorry."

Joffrey doesn't say anything to that. He just continues to rub her back and breath in the scent of her hair. He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't miss this, miss her.

He doesn't know how long they stay like this. Minutes? Hours? He can't tell. But this time allows him to think, long and hard.

She betrayed him. For the sake of her family, for herself. Maybe if he'd been better, if he hadn't been so cruel. If he hadn't killed her father, then maybe…

Maybe things would be different.

There wouldn't be a war.

She wouldn't hate him.

Her mother and brother would still be alive.

She wouldn't hate him….

"Sansa…" He whispers into her hair. She's almost asleep now, her fingers clenched tightly into his shirt. She doesn't say anything, but her fingers clench and unclench against him, telling him that she's listening.

"I'm sorry." He says. She tenses against him and he places a light kiss atop her head and pries her fingers loose from his tunic. She lets him and watches silently as he leaves, closing the door gently behind him.

* * *

"A gift for my lady, like no other."

The gilded cage is rolled into the throne room by three guards. It is large and elaborate. Inside, lies a great black cat, its fur mottled with several grey stripes. A shadowcat. It seems meek enough, lying on its side, its long slender tail thumping quietly against the bars of its prison. Sansa watches as it yawns, displaying an impressive set of long, glistening sabers.

"For me?" She says approaching it.

The cat leers at her from behind the golden bars, its matching eyes burning with something only she can recognize. Joffrey, the bearer of this gift, stands further back. Clearly he is more wary of the beast.

"It is called a shadowcat." He says. He does not tell her the beast was captured in the North and brought here as an offering of peace from one of the lords.

"Are such beast common in the south?" She asks him, her fingers gliding over the bars. Golden eyes watch her every move.

"Not anymore." He says ominously.

Her eyes meet with the beast's. They appear as frightened and miserable as her own. "You poor creature." She whispers. "I know your pain, for I too am a prisoner here."

The creature seems to understand her, because its tail stops thumping against the bars and it sits up slightly, its paw brushing the bars where her fingers lie on the opposite side. Sansa watches in awe.

She turns to her husband. "I am most grateful, my lord." She says.

The cat is placed in her private quarters and later that evening, once she has finished her bath and her maid has gone, Sansa stands before the cage once more. The cat sits on its hindquarters waiting for her.

As if under its spell, Sansa's fingers unlatch the cage door. "I would grant you the freedom I myself may never possess." She tells it. She pulls the door open and for a moment the cat just sits there staring at her. She moves back and gestures with her hands. "Go, your free."

Finally, the cat steps heavily down from its cage, it's form flowing like water. With it's full height presented to her, Sansa sees the cat is very large, it's head coming to stop at her breast.

It circles her, sniffing and growling lightly in it's chest. Sansa stands very still and hardly breathes. She imagines that the beast is inspecting her, looking for some type of flaw in her. It must not find anything because it comes to sit on its hind quarters once more in front of her and stares resolutely up at her face.

Sansa feels a strange connection with this beast. Gently, her hand comes to rest on its large, flat head. "You wish to stay?"

To her amazement, the beast actually nods as if it understands her.

Sansa smiles. "Very well. I shall call you…Relia…golden." She says staring into the cat's deep, molten eyes.

Relia seems to accept this as she presses her muzzle into Sansa's hands.

They both turn at the sound of glass shattering and find Sansa's maid, not Shae, another girl. She stares in fright at them both until Relia growls ominously and the maid flees from the room.

Sansa smiles coyly at her new friend and pets her. "We shall have to work on improving your manners."

Joffrey barges into her room, slamming the door open with force and rushing in breathless and sword draw as if he'd recently been in battle. Sansa bolts up from where she'd been lying across Relia and places her hand over the cat which has started to growl menacingly upon the king's arrival.

"My lord!"

"Why is that beast out of its cage?" He shouts angrily. Sansa feels Relia's growls against her stomach and she hushes her gently. "She is harmless, my lord." As if to help her persuasion, Relia buries her muzzle into Sansa's lap, but her glare does not move from Joffrey.

His sword lowers until finally, he sheathes it. "It belongs…" At Sansa's cold look he pauses. She looks down at her pet, her hands brushing her fur and she frowns sadly.

Joffrey sighs and his sword snaps as it is shoved all the way to the hilt. "With you." He finishes lamely and Sansa looks up in surprise. "You seem to share a bond with it." He says almost embarrassedly, trying to cover up his brutal entrance.

"Her."

Joffrey looks at her in confusion. "Her?"

"I've named her Relia."

Joffrey says nothing to this, but steadily approaches them both. Relia growls in warning and he pauses but Sansa lays a gentle hand on the cat's side and she stops. Hesitantly, Joffrey lays his palm over the cat's head and golden eyes meet grey.

"You will protect my lady with your life." He says.

The cat does nothing to acknowledge that she heard or even understood him, instead she lays her head back in her master's lap and purrs contentedly.

Sansa gazes at her husband in awe and he meets her gaze. His mouth opens as if he might say something else but after a moment, he doesn't and bows lightly to her. "Sleep well, my lady." He says, then leaves.

Sansa watches him go, then continues petting her new guardian.

Joffrey stands outside her door for a second and ponders if he has inadvertently given Sansa the gift of his own death.

* * *

He's in his room going over some papers when she comes in. He hides an amused smile as she waddles up to his desk, her expression, as per usual lately, blank. He sits back in his chair as she comes around the desk to stand before him.

"My lady…"

Without a word, she grabs his hand and places his fingers right above her naval. He's confused as to why she does this and just as he's about to take his hand back, he feels it. The slightest little bump against his fingers, like the beat of bird's wings inside her belly.

His eyes widen and he presses his whole hand to her belly to try and feel more. She smiles at him and her hands close over his, warm and comforting. "Do you feel it?" she asks.

He nods and stares up at her. There's a knot settling in his chest. He feels…anxious for some reason. The baby stops moving but he doesn't remove his hand. He doesn't want to.

"I wasn't sure," she says looking away from him almost shyly and he almost sees the other Sansa. The one before they married. It doesn't bother him so much anymore.

"I thought you would want to feel…"

"Thank you." He says. She's silent for a moment and he removes his hand when she looks slightly uncomfortable. "Sansa…"

"I'm sorry too." She says quietly, interrupting him. He doesn't say anything but the pressure in his chest lightens. Hesitantly, she leans down and kisses his cheek, lingering a moment. Then, she leaves as suddenly as she came.

* * *

A crowd is gathered in the throne room around a tall, golden haired knight with a bloodied bandage where his right hand should be. Jaime Lanister has returned home to King's Landing.

Cersei does nothing to discourage the rumors about her relationship with her brother as she embraces him, kissing his cheeks happily. Jaime spies Sansa beside Joffrey in the crowd and he smiles at her. "Well, what is this?" He asks her as he spies her large belly. "We are to be expecting a new prince or princess? So soon?" He gives a sly smile to his 'nephew' who smirks in response.

"Congratulations are in order." He says to her.

"To you as well, Lord Jaime. It is good to have you home." Sansa says warmly and Jaime raises a slim blonde brow in surprise. "You've changed, my lady."

Sansa stiffens lightly, though no one save for Joffrey who is holding her arm entwined with his, notices. "Not too much I hope." She replies coolly.

Jaime's eyes rake slowly over her form, suspicion lying hidden under his piercing blue gaze. Joffrey clears his throat agitatedly and his uncle's eyes snap to him. At the boy's glare, he smiles.

"I only mean you've grown, if possible, more beautiful."

* * *

She doesn't like her new handmaiden. Shae is gone. No one will tell her why. The hound hinted that she might have run away, but Sansa knows better.

Perhaps she's dead? She thinks.

Her new handmaiden is short, with dirty blonde hair and pouty lips. She's pretty, but there's a coldness about her that Sansa can't explain. Her name is Vyleria.

Sansa stands from her bath and the woman drapes a robe around her. Her eyes linger on her stomach and Sansa turns away from her, unsettled by her stare. She turns and spies Relia sleeping on her bed.

"I'll have the satin gown tonight, Vyleria." She tells her after she is helped into her chemise and waits for the woman to retrieve it for her. As she dresses her, her eyes wander once more to her stomach and Sansa feels a knot forming in her breast.

"Do you have children?" She asks her.

Something dark flickers over the maids expression and she turns away, back to the vanity to procure her hairbrush. "No, my lady." She says.

Sansa turns to the window, allowing the cool night air to wash over her. She smells the sea, hears the city's people below. It does not sooth her tonight as it often does. "Oh." She says.

"He was taken from me."

Sansa eyes flick to the girl. Her back is turned to her. She's taking too long.

"I'm so sorry." She says. She edges towards the door, where a guard stands on the other side.

"You should be." She says turning. The knife in her fist glint's dangerously in the firelight and Sansa gasps. "Why should you have a child by that bastard and mine be taken from me? Why does he get to have his child and mine be slaughtered like a pig?"

She screams, charging at her before Sansa has time to blink.

Her hands fly up and she screams herself as the blade slices into her arm. She wrestles with the woman, screaming at her to stop. Where are the guards?

She pushes her and runs for the door but the girl grabs her ankle and she falls. Though she braces herself with her hands, her injured arms gives way and she lands hard on her belly. The breath is knocked from her and she lies dazed on the ground. Then the pain comes. Her stomach contracts hard, squeezing her insides until she thinks she might break in half and she screams.

Vyleria crawls towards her and she flips her onto her back. She raises the knife high above her and is plowed from Sansa's vision as Relia, who was awoken by the noise lunges at her.

Vyleria cries in pain and falls back. Sansa struggles quickly to her knees and watches as her cat tears at the maid until the woman in unrecognizable. Once she is satisfied that the threat to her lady has been destroyed, she comes to sit obediently in front of her. Sansa's hands come up to grip the sides of her cat's head in gratitude and she kisses her nose.

She drops her hands as a contraction shocks through her body and she turns falling to her knees when she tries to stand. She whimpers and screams as wave after wave of pain ripples through her. Looking down, she cries and her fingers press between her legs trying to ease the pain. Her hands come away red and blood blossoms through the front of her shift. "No!" She whimpers. It's too soon! "My baby!"

"No! No no no, _oh no!"_ She cries in pain as another contraction ripples through her and once more she pushes her hands between her legs. "_Ah_!" She falls to her side, and in desperation tries to push the baby back inside. _No! This can't be happening!_

Sansa crawls towards the door, her belly dragging across the hard stone. One particularly excruciating contraction grips her and doesn't let go. She flips onto her back. Sitting up on her elbows, she spreads her legs as the pain shoots down her stomach. Relia stands over her in worry, not understanding what is wrong. The threat was taken out, why is her lady still screaming? Golden eyes flicker to the girl's stomach, which has started to move and twitch lightly. Throwing her head back Sansa screams louder than she's ever screamed before.

The door to her room breaks off the hinges and the thought crosses her mind briefly that it may have been locked. The hound charges in, sword drawn and freezes. There is blood everywhere.

Sansa screams again and the hound sheaths his sword quickly and takes her gently in his arms despite the great cat's growling. As they leave the room, Sansa's cries echo throughout the halls.

* * *

The messenger stands before him, spouting about the sweating sickness and how it has swept over his army like a storm. His soldiers are dying, he tells him. They are losing the battle in the face of Stannis Baratheon who burns his victims at the hands of some barbaric fire god he's never heard of.

"If the siege should continue for much longer…" The messenger says as Joffrey leans over a table in the throne room where he, his uncle, the hand, and the small council are discussing battle strategies. "I'm afraid a great portion of your majesty's army will be dug into the fields of…"

Joffrey's anger reaches its breaking point and he surprises them all by flipping the large table with an impressive display of strength. Papers fly everywhere as he screams at the man, "_I will not hear any more about it!_"

The man cowers back and his uncle steps forward only to be held back by Cersei who shakes her head ominously.

Joffrey sticks his finger in the man's face, shaking it under his nose. "You are as much my enemy as Stannis! Since you seek to demoralize, to lay about our weakness and spin tales of sickness! These men are not sick from the flocks, but from _cowardess_! And I will _not _send cowards home!"

His hands fly through the air wildly as his face becomes redder with the onset of his rage. A small vein pulses in his forehead and the man shrinks back from him as his voice raises even more.

"These men may either fight or I will hang them by their yellow necks!" He presses his finger hard into the man's shoulder, pushing him back with the force. "You! Get them from their sickbeds and back into that trench or I'll make you a head shorter!"

"Yes your majesty." The man stutters and he turns quickly to go.

"And next time!" Joffrey screams at his retreating form. "Tell me the truth!"

The hall is silent as Joffrey mounts the steps and sits upon his throne. He braces his arms on his knees and hangs his head heavily in his hands and just breathes. No one attempts to interrupt this little calming mantra, knowing all too well how dangerous their King is when he's angry.

Though it seems one does not. A servant inters hurriedly into the hall, breathless from his rush. "Your majesty!"

Joffrey springs from his seat and in quick long strides he comes upon the man, unsheathing his dagger from his belt and pressing it into the shocked man's mouth. Cersei gasps in shock at his actions. "What do you want?" He growls. "Speak! Or I will cut out your tongue!"

"Your wife!" The man stutters. "Queen Sansa, has been attacked by her servant! The baby comes now!"

"But it is four moon cycles too early!" Cersei says horrified. Joffrey drops the knife and the man in horror and pushes deftly pass him, breaking out into a run before anyone can stop him.

* * *

She's never felt such pain in her life. It feels as if her body is being ripped apart from the inside out and there's nothing she can do to stop it. Women she doesn't know crowd around her and an old man she doesn't recognize stands at her feet. She can't focus enough to feel shy or embarrassed that he's seeing something of her that only her husband has ever seen.

Her throat is hoarse from her screams but she can't stop.

One woman sits on either side of her, gripping her arms so she doesn't hurt herself. Her right is already wrapped tightly in a bloody bandage and stings when the woman grips it as she thrashes back and forth.

"More water!" The man at her feet yells.

One of the women leaves to fetch it and Sansa suddenly hears yelling outside the room.

The door bursts open and her husband bursts in. She's never been so happy to see him in all her life but all she can do is cry in pain as another wave wraps around her.

Joffrey freezes at the sight of her and his mother rushes in shortly after him. He's used to blood and gore. He's seen it countless times in his young life but the sight of her lying there, covered head to toe in red and screaming in agony rips through him like a blade and he feels sick.

"My lord!" The man at her feet shouts in surprise. He rushes to the king and actually begins to usher him out of the room. "My lord you can't be in here!"

His eyes stay locked on her form and she panics. She doesn't want him to leave! She needs him! Her hands reach for him and she cries helplessly. "No! Please, Joffrey."

He turns viciously to the man and wraps his fingers tightly around his throat. "And who proposes to keep me out? You?" His mother freezes behind him, her hand coming to catch on the doorframe in shock.

Sansa wants to cry but for a reason far more than pain.

_When they told Jaime he wasn't allowed in the birthing room, he smiled and asked which one of them proposed to keep him out._

_Joffrey will show you no such devotion._

With a jerk, he releases the man and comes swiftly to her side. Her hands grasp his and for the first time since her betrayal, she kisses him.

He returns her kiss, reveling in the feeling but it's broken as she screams, pulling away and burying her head into her pillow in agony.

"My lady, you must push now." The man who has returned to her feet commands. "No." Sansa cries. Joffrey watches her helplessly, he doesn't know what to do. Finally, his mother appears at her other side, shoving the midwife away so she can wipe the girl's hair off her forehead.

"Sansa, you must!" She whispers urgently. "I can't. I can't do it." She cries.

"If you don't, you will die! Now push!"

Her hands squeeze his painfully as she grimaces, her teeth shining in the light and a tiny vein throbs above her brow. Something breaks loose inside, she can feel it. Something wet and warm slides out of her and it's a horrible, sickening feeling. She lets out a hoarse cry and collapses back into her pillows, breathing heavily.

Silence.

She cracks her eyes open, her vision bleary. Cersei sits above her, looking towards her feet. Her face is grim. Why does she look like that? Why aren't they happy? She turns to Joffrey, all color drains from his face.

She finally registers the silence that has pervaded the room.

"What? What is it?" She asks fearfully and Cersei turns to shush her. "Why isn't he crying? Give me my baby. I want to see him!"

"It is a girl." The man at her feet says, wrapping the little bundle in a white cloth. Cersei turns to her son and she has tears in her eyes. "Joffrey, hold her." She says, standing to approach the man. Sansa frowns as her husband's arms circle around her.

"The birth was too soon." The man says quietly to Cersei. "The child did not survive."

Sansa feels her world collapse around her. The man takes the bundle and leaves the room. "Where is he going?" She screams and Joffrey's arms tighten around her as he buries his face in her hair. She fights him, pushing and clawing and screaming. "Where is he going with my baby? Give her to me! No!"

As the man disappears out the door, Sansa dissolves into tears and holds her husband as if her very life depended on it.

* * *

Joffrey can't bear to be in the room. His mother attends to Sansa dutifully and diligently, but still Joffrey can't stand to look at her. He didn't expect this. This . . . aching deep inside him…

His mother has confirmed his worst fears – the baby died due to the force of Sansa's attack, which caused her to go into early labor. The blood – there was so much of it. When she had finally fallen unconscious, the blood began to flow. His mother was good and jumped straight to action ordering the midwives in attendance and taking charge of the situation at hand. Joffrey couldn't watch any longer. He leaves the room and charges through the castle demanding for his wife's attacker's head on a platter before him. No, better yet. Bring them before him, so that he may dispose of them personally.

It is Littlefinger who stops him.

"The servant is dead already, my lord." He says. "She was no servant at all however."

Littlefinger informs him that the woman was a whore. His late father's whore to be precise. It is surmised that she attacked his wife because he ordered the slaughter of all Robert Baratheon's bastards. Including hers.

Upon this news, Joffrey says nothing. He can't. He flees to his quarters.

It was there that he sat now, alone in the dark. He doesn't expect to feel this way – but there is a great feeling of loss dwelling inside him tonight. He hasn't even known the feeling of being a father for more than a few months – but now that that prospect is snatched so hatefully away from him, he realizes just how much he was looking forward to that child. _His son_. 'No' He thinks. 'A daughter.' So often he had imagined the future with his little boy. Teaching him how to wield a sword . . . his first riding lesson . . . sitting on his knee as he himself sat on the iron throne . . . he had pictured these events so vividly in his mind – and now they were all snatched away.

And it's all his fault!

In a fit of rage, he flips his desk. Papers, pens, ink, bottles, everything flies through the air with a crash. He roars like the lions of his heritage and picks up his desk chair and hurls it at the far wall.

More furniture follows and when he runs out of things to throw, he turns to his bed, ripping the hanging curtains down around him. The guards, hearing the commotion within, rush to his door. Upon the sight of his fury, they dare not enter, but instead turn and continue to wait outside.

He grabs an axe hanging from the wall and smashes it into any and everything that hasn't been destroyed by his anger.

His uncle Jaime comes to stand in his doorway, having been summoned upon the start of his tantrum. Jaime watches his son's suffering with knowing eyes and when the boy sinks to the floor, head in his hands, he cautiously approaches.

Joffrey can't help the tears that fall from his eyes. How dare they . . . whoever they were – they killed his child . . . _and hurt Sansa_. This thought hits him like a ton of bricks. None of this would have happened if not for him. He's beginning to realize why his people despise him. Why he's so hated in all the seven kingdoms. He's worse than the mad king.

He's killed and tortured so many people. Ordered the slaughter of children. Children who could never hurt him. All for selfish pride!

He knows now why Margaery tried to kill him. Knows why Sansa plotted against him. Knows why she hates him. He's dreading the moment when he has to go back and see her. She would be heart broken – and he doesn't know if he can stand her tears . . . her sorrow. He's seen her cry before – but this is different. This was a pain that they both share.

Somewhere deep down, there is a voice shouting at him that he is being stupid about it all – he didn't even know the child so why should he be upset? _It was my blood . . . my creation . . . my daughter . . . how can I not be upset that I'll never see her?_ He thinks. The cascade of tears falls heavier over his cheeks and he wipes them away shamefully. Kings don't cry.

A heavy hand settles on his shoulder and he looks up to find his uncle. "It's my fault, uncle." He says pitifully. "She'll never forgive me for this. I don't know if I can forgive myself…"

"It's not your fault." Jaime says.

"Yes it is!" He screams, standing to grab his uncle's shirt and shake him. "I ordered to have those children murdered! I killed her father! I killed Loras! My people fear and despise me!" Madness consumes him and he rips his uncle's sword from its sheath. "Kill me, uncle!" He cries, pressing the sword into the shocked man's hand.

"Kill me as you did the mad king! The gods know I deserve it!" Jaime stares at him like he truly is mad and Joffrey's rage returns. "Do it!"

His uncle hits him so hard across the face that it splits his lip and sends him sprawling to the ground. Jaime re-sheaths his sword and bends down, gripping his son by the shoulders and jerking him up to face him.

"Now you listen to me." He growls. "You are a king! Stop acting like a child and grow up! Your wife is in there suffering a thousand times more than you right now. Go in there and comfort her like a man!" Joffrey stares up at him in amazement. Jaime stands and jerks him up with him. Joffrey nods mutely and rubs a hand down his face. Suddenly, his uncle embraces him hard. "You have _Lanister_ blood in you boy. You're strong. You'll get through this. I know it."


	4. Chapter 4

**In which Sansa dreams and Joffrey forgives.**

**Sorry for the slow update, I've been taking care of my sister who had surgery for about a week and this is the first time I've had contact with internet. And now my grandmother's in the hospital too so updates will be slow in coming for lack of wifi. But know I am working hard on coming chapters so as soon as I have access I will post them.**

**Thank you all for your wonderful comments! I am really glad so any people enjoy my story, I was worried it would be ill received because of the strange pairing but I guess I was wrong. Keep em up! Your comments fuel my imagination and help this story along. I don't think I've ever written something this popular before. **

**Forwarning! With the oncoming of season 3, note that I am watching them very eagerly and as it will probably be Joffrey's last season, I may go back in earlier chapters and change things to suit the season. Please understand that I try to keep this story as closely cannon to the tv series as I can. But when Joffrey dies thats when the cannon is thrown out the window.**

* * *

_~~We think the caged bird sings when in reality, she is crying…~~_

She's falling into ruin. Most days, she just lies in her bed, staring at nothing for hours until sleep finally consumes her. She only eats when the gnawing pain in her stomach becomes too much and even then it's only enough to abate it. Some days, as she's staring at nothing, her mind wanders. She begins thinking what if's.

If she'd been born at the right time, would she be allowed to keep her? Stay with her? Raise her like a mother should?

She imagines her daughter's life as if it's actually happening.

She sees herself feeding her. Playing with her. Dressing her.

And when she sleeps, Sansa dreams only of her. She dreams they are walking in the garden, and her daughter runs ahead chasing the butterflies and smelling the flowers. Sansa calls out to her and her name is always something different. Torie, Alayne, Lyra, Rinira… it's always different, always unsure.

She dreams of holding her daughter, comforting her when she's hurt or sick. Kissing her when she cries. Precious moments that when she wakes, she knows are impossible now.

When she thinks of her daughter now, she cries. Sometimes silently so that the tears come but no sound, as if she's barely alive inside the shell that her body has become. Other times it's so hard and heart wrenching that she's unable to speak afterwards.

Her new handmaiden's fear her. Every time one walks into her room, she becomes enraged. She screams and rages. She throws things at them, plates, cutlery, or furniture.

She killed one girl. _Actually killed her._

The girl wasn't actually a girl at all but a rather boorish woman who thought the cure to the lady's illness was to use brute force.

"Crying over a lost child will solve nothing." She'd said to Sansa, even after she'd run out of things to throw at her. She'd stared at the woman like she was mad. "It's dead, you should move on. Bed that husband of yours before he kills you, mayhap, you'll get will child again."

Sansa held so much rage from the woman's words her eye became unfocused and she attacked the maid. But the woman was larger and stronger and Sansa could do her no harm. So, she had the cat take care of the maid for her.

They say she took great delight in seeing the woman fall. Standing over her corpse and petting her cat as if in praise for the gruesome deed, though no smile has graced her features since that day. She wants Shae. Shae would understand, Shae would help her, comfort her. But Shae is dead, she tells herself.

And no force in this world can bring back the dead. At least, not as they were in life she thinks remembering stories her father told her of the wall and the ghostly beings who lived beyond.

She's going mad.

She's losing everything around her and nothing she can do will stop it.

First her father.

Then her freedom.

Her brothers, her sister… and her mother. All gone.

And now her daughter too.

She feels as if she's been fighting upstream; she's stuck at a standstill, unable to move forward but fighting too long to look back. She wants Joffrey. _And for the life of her she doesn't know why._ All of this, everything is his fault! But she wants him there _with her_. She wants him to hold her, to stroke her hair and tell her everything's going to be alright. She wants him to kiss her and touch her and to love her as she once loved him. She wants them to be _happy_ _together_ but when he finally does come she forgets all that.

She only feels rage and anger and hurt. And suddenly, she wants to hurt him as much as he's hurt her.

"_You monster_!" She screams, beating on his chest and hating the surprise in his face; like he wasn't expecting her anger. "You evil, sadistic _monster_!" She slaps his face, his neck, his arms, whatever she can reach. Her reaction is so strong it seems to push the very air out of the room, leaving little space for anything else.

His hands grab her wrists holding her against him as she cries hoarsely. "You killed my baby! _You killed her, you did!" _Because Littlefinger told her who the maid was and why she attacked her. He told her what her husband had done and she didn't want to believe him but it's true. It's so true and she hates him all over again.

Hates him because he's cruel.

Because he's sadistic and vain and mad and so…_evil!_

Joffrey releases her in shock and she releases a low keening sound and drops to her knees in front of him, burying her face in her hands and sinking further down to the floor. Until her forehead presses against the cold stone and her red hair forms a blanket around her. It is the gesture of a small girl hiding her face. It is the gesture of a woman whose grief is too much to bear.

Joffrey's hands shake as he stares down at her. He's never wanted to hurt her more than in that moment but something stops him. For reasons he can't even begin to fathom, the thought of hurting her more makes him violently ill. He feels cold and sick and he turns walks out of the room, leaving her on the floor.

He can still hear her crying in the hall and he grimaces pressing his hands against his ears. Her words echo over and over in his head and he can't make it stop.

_You killed my baby! You killed her, you did!_

3333

The night after she attacked her husband, she dreams for the first time of something other than her daughter. She'd gone to bed angry, her thoughts consumed once more with vengeance. That's what must have caused it because she's never had a dream so bizarre before.

She dreams she wakes up and sees herself lying in bed. There is a grimace on her face and she watches as her body twists and turns in abandon. She turns and leaves the room. The body she's occupying now seems strange to her.

She feels light and heavy all at once. Her senses are sharp and defined like never before and as she passes people in the hall, they cower away from her. They fear her. She can smell it in their scent.

She ignores them. She feels as if she needs to be somewhere. She feels a pull, drawing her closer and closer to her destination. Torches line the wall high above her, their light flickering the shadows around her like water.

She rounds a corner.

There's a door down the steps. It's calling to her. Pulling her closer and closer. It's _his _room.

The hound is there, standing silent and sturdy as a statue in front of his door. He looks down at her and begins to unsheathe his sword. She's never known him to do that to her. She sits before him, staring up at him and trying to relay a message through her expression because suddenly she finds she cannot speak. The hound pauses and slowly, re sheathes his sword. He steps aside and she enters the room.

Joffrey is asleep, his arm splayed out beside him with his other hand resting on his bare chest. It's the way he's always slept, at least since she's been married to him. She approaches him and sits by the bed to watch him.

She should kill him. She should.

Something painful flutters beneath her bosom at the thought. Every god in this world knows he would deserve it. She growls suddenly, and it rumbles deep inside her chest. It sounds deeper somehow, primal. She doesn't quite understand why. Joffrey jolt's awake at the sound and he bolts up. Leaning back on his elbows, he's staring at her, eyes wide and mouth agape.

_Yes,_ she thinks. _I should end your life after you've destroyed mine._

As he continues to stare at her she licks her lips, and it makes a wet sound.

Sansa jumps up onto the bed and Joffrey flinches. She crawls over him and watches as his body presses further back into the bed away from her. She exhales, blowing hot breath into his face and his hair, which has grown slightly longer flutters against his eyes.

She stares hard at his neck, the bobbing adam's apple and the small beads of sweat which have started a path down to his collar bone. She feels an urge to bite it. To sink her fangs deep into the pale flesh until it bruised and bloody and lifeless.

Her senses are so sharp, she can hear his pulse loud and clear in her ears. She can see the erratic jump of his light blue vein above his collar. She can smell his fear, it's sweet and tangy and she can taste it on her tongue. It makes her sick and her lips curls in disgust at herself. She watches as he shrinks back more at the sight of her sabers. She growls irritably. What's wrong with her? Do it! Kill him!

Images flash in her mind's eye. Images of a softer side to her husband.

The day they met.

His hands brushing her collar as he settled the necklace around her shoulders.

Their first kiss.

Then, come the memories after their wedding. On stormy nights, when he was tired by the days duties and he would come to bed and just hold her until she fell asleep. When he was angry to the point of bursting and a simple touch of her fingers could calm him. When he would push her against the wall and kiss her senseless. The look on his face, when he felt their baby inside her. That look of soft wonderment and maybe…something else?

She closes her eyes and growls again.

_Why can't I hate you?_

She backs away and lies on her belly before him, her face resting atop her hands. Her eyes never leave his form but she notices him relax lightly when she does. The sun peeks through the window and shines over them both. Who knows how long they stayed like that, just watching each other.

Finally, his hand comes out from beneath the covers and settle in her hair.

That's when Sansa closes her eyes and awakes again in her bed. Her hands reach out beside her, searching for a familiar warmth. She rises slowly and gazes around the room.

Where is Relia?

33333

Joffrey is sure that Sansa sent the cat to kill him. But there is an intelligence in its eyes that he's never seen before. Like it _knows_ him.

He lifts his hand away from the beast's head and its eyes open blearily. Suddenly it sits up, its eyes swiveling around in confusion. When it looks at him again, Joffrey cannot see the intelligence that was there moments ago. The eyes seem clouded now, wild.

The cat leaps from his bed and bolts past the startled guard, disappearing around the corner. Joffrey frowns and drops his hand to his side.

33333

It hardly ever rains in King's landing. But it's raining tonight. No, it's storming tonight. The winds are screaming in her ears and lighting lights up the sky as if it were day. The resounding boom of thunder rattles through her bones, but still, she stands at the door leading to her balcony. She leans on the archway, her hair blowing listlessly in her face. The sound and feel of the rain is soothing to her. The cold water splashes her skin and she feels at peace for the first time in a long time.

Bumps form along her bare arms from the chill. Her dress is similar to a slave's dress. Sheer, gossamer fabric, bunched in the back and falling free like water from her neck. Her hair is loose and long, tangling around her waist from the wind.

The balcony is three steps from her. Its rail, only four steps further from that. She absently plays with the idea of crossing the threshold and stepping up on the slippery rail. She imagines spreading her arms like great wings and taking that final step off the edge. She imagines truly flying, a bird set free from her prison.

But Sansa is afraid of death.

She is afraid of what awaits her in the afterlife.

She's afraid of meeting her family again, after everything she's done.

Relia yawns beside her and nudges her leg with her broad head. Sansa glances down and scratches behind the cat's ear. "You sleep, Relia, I'm not tired." The cat turns away from her and leaves the room completely. Sansa wonders briefly where she's going. Maybe to the kitchens for some scraps of meat leftover from that night's dinner.

Sansa's mind begins to wander. She's run out of time. Her immunity was destroyed the moment her child was lost. Her life lies in the hands of her 'loving' husband and it would be foolish to beg his mercy.

The last time she begged mercy from him, she was tricked. Fool her once shame on him, fool her twice and she's the fool. Sansa is no fool.

Thunder clashes high in the sky. Sansa's foot shifts forward. She can take that last little bit of power from him. She can free herself now. All she has to do is cross that threshold. They won't find her until morning with this storm.

Her body moves of its own free will.

She pushes away from the arch, and walks slowly towards the edge. She steps up onto the railing, hoping she doesn't slip before…

Before what?

The wind has died but the rain hasn't. It soaks through her clothes, plasters her hair to her face but as she looks up to the sky she smiles. Tears stream down her face and mix with the rain and she closes her eyes. Something pulls in her chest and she hesitates.

This is wrong.

She should turn around, go back inside but she's come too far now. The bird slowly spreads her wings and pivots on her heel. She tips backwards, ready to fall when she hears a scream.

"NooOOO!"

Strong arms circle around her waist and she's jerked so forcefully from the railing that the top of her foot scrapes the top of the slick stone. Her captor falls back, taking her with him and they lay in the middle of the balcony, the rain falling around them. Her captor breathes heavily as if he's just completed a long sprint from a far off place.

_"Are you mad!"_ He screams hoarsely. Sansa opens her eyes and almost cries harder at the sight of her husband's horror stricken face looming above her. His hands push her hair out of her face and he glares at her. His grip on her chin tightens leaving burning red finger marks in her pale skin. "Why would you do that?" She says nothing and squeezes her eyes shut. Joffrey shakes her. "Sansa!"

"Why are you here?" She cries.

He growls viciously and stands jerking her up with him and leads them inside out of the rain. He keeps a firm hand around her wrist, pulling her towards her dresser. Pushing her in front of him, he keeps her in his sight as he digs through the fabrics for something to dry her with. He pulls forth a thick white sheet and drapes it around her shivering form. She won't look at him but that doesn't bother him. He's just glad she's still there not to look at him.

His hands rub vigorously at her arms and shoulders through the cloth, working the heat and feeling back into her frozen body. Sansa pushes him suddenly. "Don't touch me!" She screams.

Joffrey grits his teeth and his brows furrow dangerously. He grips her arms hard and shakes her again. "You're my wife and I'll touch you whenever it pleases me!" Her response is to spit in his face.

Joffrey recoils in shock and after a moment, flicks the moisture away with his thumb. She glowers at him and for the first time in a very long time, he slaps her, hard. Her head whips to the side and her cheek flames in pain. Anger blossoms in her chest and she screams as she lunges at him. Her nails rake across his own face and he shouts in surprise, grappling with her. He shoves her back against the stone wall and pins her struggling with his own body.

"Stop!" He says.

Sansa kicks and struggles and fights to no avail. He's grown bigger and stronger than her over the past year. He's taller too, standing at least two heads over her own. He grips her arms and pin them above her head and growls as her knee hits too close to his groin for comfort.

"Release me!" She screams. Joffrey says nothing and glares heatedly down at her. The towel drops to the floor around her feet, exposing the translucent fabric of her gown. Water dapples her skin and his eyes trail over her collar bone. A bead begins it's slow decent over her pale skin, sinking down in the crevice of her cleavage. His hungry gaze alights on her breasts, pink nipples easily visible behind the gossamer fabric of her gown, the damp cloth clinging to the skin and outlining every curve. He licks his lips as his throat dries very suddenly. He's been too long without her and no whore could replace her. He's tried. Even with Margaery, it was Sansa's face in his mind, Sansa's wanton cries in his ears, everything Sansa.

She feels his arousal against her stomach and she cries anew. Why does he enjoy tormenting her like this?

"Why are you doing this?" She whispers painfully.

"The baby is gone!" She screams in his face, tears choking her. Joffrey winces. "You have no more need of me, do what you will and be done with it!"

She relaxes, too tired to struggle anymore. "Please…" She whimpers. "Just let me go."

Joffrey releases one of her hands and tilts her chin in his fingers. His grey eyes hold more storms than the weather around them and he grimaces as if in pain. "I can't."

He kisses her, pouring all the heat and desperation and longing from the past months into that one kiss. And just as forcefully, she returns his kiss. His hands release her to rake through her hair and her fingers claw at his back. His hands grip her thighs, raising them to wrap around his waist as he presses her further into the wall.

"Sansa…" He groans nipping at her neck and she sighs in abandon. She's missed this, she's missed him though she tries to deny it.

His mouth travels downward, pressing warm, sultry kisses along her throat. Caught up in the bliss that he evokes, she yields the ivory column to his fancy, unable to find any strength within her limbs. In her reeling world, he has become the only stable core to which she could cling. And oh how she clings to him, like a woman drowning in the open sea. His open mouth returns to ensnare her lips in an insatiable quest to win her eager response. He sighs over his success as her slender fingers thread through the short hair at the nape of his neck.

Sansa's head tips backward as she gives herself over entirely to the bliss of his sultry kisses, but she is hardly prepared as he sweeps her dress downward beneath a creamy breast, baring its soft peak to the branding heat of his tongue.

The heat of a blush suffuses her, warming her almost as much as the jolting fires that leapt through her senses when he took her nipple into his mouth. Feeling consumed by the moist, fiery touch of his mouth, she gives a strangled moan.

"J-Joffrey."

His hands clench around her thighs and at her back at the sound and he groans into her breast. The hungering ache in his loins has manifested itself into a throbbing density, and he grinds against her, seeking refuge from the pulsating heat in his loins. She shudders and gasps headily in response to his teasing touch.

His lips lock with hers and he backs away from the wall, holding her close. His knees bump her bed and he collapses backwards eliciting a shocked gasp from her lips. She pulls back, staring wonderingly into his face. She sees emotions there that she's never seen before. At this moment, he's like an open book, everything presented before her greedy eyes to take in.

She sees his longing.

His sadness, his anger, his lust, but under all that, she sees pain. Sansa sees a deep, aching pain in his stormy grey eyes, swirling like a twister in the depths of his being. "Sansa…" His voice is husky and deep, deeper now since he's grown in the past year. He'll be sixteen this summer, and she'll be seventeen, but now he seems so much older than her.

"Why?" She asks him. Her tears have dried but her cheeks flush prettily and her lips are swollen, thick and pink from his adamant attention. He leans back on one hand, assured that she won't bolt if he lets her go. One hand reaches up, stroking her cheek softly and wiping the stray tears from the rosy skin.

He traces a lone finger downward to her shoulder and then along the edge of her bosom, sketching across the fullness of a breast before moving into the crevice and rising again to the far peak. Once again Sansa is confronted with her own dwindling reserve as her nipple grows taut beneath the playful strokes of his thumb. Luxuriating in the delectable pleasure awakening within her, she sits in quiescent stillness until a sultry heat begins to awaken in her loins.

But he still hasn't answered her. Her hand comes up to grasp around his wrist and though she holds it in place, he stops his attentions to look at her. "Joffrey…"

"Because your mine."

She frowns.

"You've always been mine." He whisperes, his thumb working across the tender peak again and she shivers.

"My Sansa…" He whispers dazedly, as if lost in thought. "My lady."

_You're my lady now…_

She recalled him saying once before, long ago. She stiffens. "I betrayed you." She says.

He smirks at her and presses his thumb lightly into the flesh, pushing the peak inwards. She bites her lip. "And I betrayed you…"

"I won't promise not to be cruel or to never disrespect you. You wouldn't believe me even if I did…" She brings her hands up to wrap around his neck, her forearms resting lightly on his shoulders as he speaks.

"I want…" He pauses and presses his forehead against hers and just breathes. She swallows thickly in response. "I want you to be my lady again. I want you by my side once more. In my arms at night." The sweet words surprise her; because it's not very often she hears them from his lips. But often with sugary words come the pain of suffering later.

She glares at him defiantly and he smirks. "And if I betray you again? If you betray me?"

Unexpectedly, he kisses her, long and slow, like never before. She feels the tension in her shoulders relax immediately and her fingers grip the back on his neck tightly. He pulls away just as her lungs are about to burst from the lack of air and he pants along with her.

"You won't." He says, kissing her shoulder. "And I won't."

She scoffs and tilts her head allowing him more access instinctively. "You seem so sure."

His fingers grip her chin as he looks at her again. It is surprisingly tender but there is an underlying threat in his grasp. "I am."

"Do I have a choice?" She sneers slightly in annoyance. He smiles lazily and removes his hand to lean back on both arms. He's surprised by her question and wonders if he should indulge her. That spark in her eyes has grown over the months into a bright, blue flame. A fire that has consumed him, body and soul. He can't bear to lose her now.

His mother has always told him anyone who isn't a Lanister, is an enemy. And he'd had reservations about marrying this girl before but now…times have changed. She has changed. She's a Lanister now.

"Of course." He says, albeit somewhat hesitantly.

Sansa is shocked that he's actually allowing her this. She could say no. She doesn't want this. But he would only take her forcefully. He won't kill her. Not now.

She'd be lying if she said she didn't want this. Another chance, a new beginning. At her long silence, he frowns and sits up, pulling her close. "Sansa?"

She bites her lip and in a gesture of supreme intimacy and trust, she lies her head on his shoulder, moving her arms to wrap around his chest instead. "Alright."

"Alright?"

She smiles, sighing softly in annoyance. "I will."

Joffrey releases a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He pulls her away from his shoulder, tilting her chin up to capture her lips in a long, melting kiss. Joffrey slips a hand beneath her and lifts her effortlessly across his lap, but it isn't until Sansa draws back for a trembling breath that she realizes her gown no longer separated them. Her bare bottom rests atop his leather-clad thighs, making her aware of a bulging hardness pressing snugly against her thigh. Nothing is quite as arousing to his senses as having her bare backside against him, except perhaps having his own equally naked beneath hers.

He kisses her again, holding nothing back as his open mouth ravishes hers in frenzied greed, devouring her intoxicating taste. When Joffrey lifts his head a century later, the flaming grey orbs burn into hers. Once more his hand moves across her bosom, roaming the hills and vales.

Her eyes smolder like brightly burning coals as they rise to meet his, and just as Sansa had wanted, his open mouth comes to hers with the same urgency that only moments earlier had worn away the outer perimeters of her will. His fingers dip, allowing him to clasp the fullness of a creamy breast within his hand. Sansa's breath hitches at the thrill that catapults through her as he gently fondled her. When he drew back to appease himself with a lingering perusal, she watches him with bated breath, her heart thudding a new, chaotic rhythm.

His arm tightens around the small of her back, arching her spine until her bosom is thrust forward into the luminous glow of the lantern. Sansa struggles to draw breath as he lowers his head and devours the soft mounds with rapacious greed. The fires pulsing within her loins are now flaming upward, growing ever hotter, drawing soft mewling sighs from her as his tongue licks across the soft pink pinnacles. With each flicking stroke, she's being swept closer over the edge. Caught up in the thrilling excitement elicited by his mouth and swirling tongue, Sansa gives no notice to his hand leaving her breast and slipping between them, until the shock of his intrusion wrenches a startled gasp from her.

She catches his wrist and struggles to rise, only to find his mouth covering hers again. The fiery heat of his kiss bespoke of his lusting need, but when she's being shaken by jolts of fire that threatens to consume her, she can't think of anything beyond the need to stop his caresses before she melts in pure bliss.

He pushes her harshly down into the mattress and leans over her like a great beast. His eyes glow brightly, seemingly lighting up the dark room. The rain pelts harder outside and lightning illuminates the room. Soon after, a thunderous boom sends a jolt of…pleasure…though her.

Sansa smiles. Such a silly thing to feel pleasure from. But he is like the thunder, like the storm. Loud and powerful, commanding the attention and respect of all who stand in his presence.

Joffrey is like the thunder.

With a new zeal flamed into her being, she reaches behind him, wrenching his shirt over his head. Yanking his arms free of the garment, he tosses it aside with a muted groan. Of a sudden, she doesn't know where to put her hands, and in an anxious frenzy she rubs them over the sinews rippling across his back and shoulders.

His hand wanders past the small of her back and slides downward past her crumpled gown to clasp a round buttock. Lifting her with him, he rises to his knees and began to drag the garment from her hips. He whisks her free of the restricting clothes, flings them aside to fall in a puffy mound on the stone floor.

He begins ridding himself of his own garments as his eyes feasts upon the perfection that had held his mind solidly entrapped for some time now. Sansa allows her eyes to devour his form, a pert smile tracing her lips and she locks her fingers behind his neck, pulling him down to meet her awaiting kiss.

Relinquishing her claim on him, she sinks back on the bed and wriggles across the freshly scented sheet until she reaches the pillows near the headboard. Joffrey follows and, bracing on a knee beside her, slips an arm beneath her waist and lifted her across the feather ticking to the middle of the bed. Caressing her cheek and lips with wanton kisses, he lowered his loins between her eagerly parting thighs and reached down a hand to gently part the silken folds. Sansa turns her face aside and bites her lip as the unyielding hardness intrudes. Her breath is snatched from her as he surges forward, piercing her with a pleasure that makes her pitch upward.

He thrusts against her, fast and hard, then slow and gentle, drawing it out and never letting her get used to the rhythm. Her soft mewls turn into panting gasps and low moans of pleasure as she arched her back, her breasts lifting in the air as her fingers fist tightly in the blankets beneath her.

"Oh, gods." She breathes. Joffrey smirks, his stomach brushing over hers as he leans down, taking her ear lobe in his teeth and biting gently. "No, just me. But good guess."

Sansa giggles in abandon as thunder strikes again and another wave of lust ripples through her at the vibrations in the air. It cracks, loud and both frightens and exhilarates her. His thrust come faster, harder, hotter.

Her fingers claw at his shoulder blades, leaving long red marks in his pale skin while he bites and nips at the column of her throat. She pushes her hips up to meet him, the friction between them sending ripples through her belly and coiling tighter and tighter.

He sits up, pulling her hips with him as he thrusts faster against her, his fingers digging sharply into her sides. She flings her arms back, her nails digging into her scalp, her pillow, the sheets, anything to distract her from this mounting tension.

Joffrey releases her waist and leans over her once more. His fingers trail down, grasping her right leg behind her knee, he lifts it up over his shoulder. He does the same with her other and she finds herself almost bent entirely in half but the sensation that comes is incredible!

So deep and hot and…

Her mind goes blank and she locks her arms around his neck, pulling him down closer as she pants in his face. "J-Joffrey…yes…"

She feels his shutter as he stares at her with that heated gaze. A bead of sweat drops from his nose to her neck sliding down to settle in the curve of her collar. Finally, the tension breaks and Sansa throws her head back, releasing him with a keening cry. Her legs cross around his neck and he feels her warmth, hot and tight surround him.

With a final thrust and answering shout, he pants over her, pulling her legs from around his shoulders and leaning on his elbows. For a long time, they just watch each other, neither saying a word, neither wanting to break the comfortable silence that has encased them. His fingers brush a wet strand of hair away from her face and she catches his fingers gently in her hand.

Her eyes never leave his as she brushes the digits over her lips, presses soft kisses into his palm. Finally, he lies down next to her and she hesitantly molds her body against him, buries her nose in the crevice of his neck as he presses his lips to her damp hair.

Still they say nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

**I struggled a lot with myself viewing the 3rd season and more than once considered going back and re-writing this whole thing to better match the series. At first I didn't think it was a good idea but as I read and re-read what few chapters I had things seemed rushed and way out of character for them. I didn't like it. So I will be going back and trying again. I won't change everything but I will change a bit so when I do post new chapters if you have already read it I sincerely suggest re-reading it. I'm also going to try and not rush into Sansa and Joffrey's relationship like I did before so they probably won't be married by the first chapter when I get it up and running again. There's a certain way I want to go about this in my head and it's going to take some work to get there. So hang tight and I should have things back on track shortly.  
**

**But regardless of what happens in future episodes this story is now officially AU all the way. Joffrey never dies, Sansa never runs away and they actually learn to get along somewhat with some bumps and stuff along the way that comes with all marriages arranged or otherwise. **

**P.S. Thanks to everyone who inquired about my family's well-being. I am happy to tell everyone that they are happy and healthy.  
**


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